


You're Lost in the Eyes of My Love as She Cries

by bertie456 (bertee)



Series: Bones: You're Lovely to Me [31]
Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-01
Updated: 2008-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/bertie456





	You're Lost in the Eyes of My Love as She Cries

Something wasn't right.

In the same way that cows know to lay down before rain comes, Seeley Booth sensed that there was a problem the second he walked into the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal lab. Unfortunately, since nothing about him was especially cow-like, he couldn't claim the right to lay down and let it pass, but instead opted to utilise his well-developed detecting skills to work out exactly what was out of place.

 _Okay, process of elimination. Is the lab still here and full of busy little squints?_

He looked round, establishing with reasoning Hercule Poirot would've been proud of that the lab was indeed still there, given that he was inside it, and that the squints were milling about like a swarm of blue bees. _Or_ _bluebottles,_ pointed out a rarely used part of his brain which had evidently been occupied by the Simile Police. _Anyway, a large 'check' on the lab front. Bones?_

Eyes following a well-traveled route, he saw that Brennan's office door was closed. _That would mean she's either writing her book or doing something I don't want to picture with Sully._ He considered this for a moment before his thoughts turned bitter at the memory of what he'd been witness to a few days earlier. _Nope, if she was making out with Sully, the door would be open. Wouldn't want anyone to make the face-sucking extravaganza 2007._ Pushing down all malicious thoughts toward his fellow agent, Booth returned to the business at hand, _Bones? Check._

 _Cam?_ The contented smile on the pathologist's face was just visible from his vantage point as she drilled enthusiastically through the rib cage of a corpse. _Check._

 _Angela?_ The artist's absence in the lab confirmed that it had been her voice coming from the storage cupboard as he'd walked in. _Check._

 _Hodgins?_ Considering that Angela was unlikely to have been in the cupboard alone, Booth was fairly confident of Hodgins' whereabouts, although he was somewhat horrified to learn that something of the entomologist's was called Buzz Lightyear by his girlfriend. _Check._

 _Zach?_ As if on cue, the newly-minted doctor sped past him, oblivious to everything except the jars of various beetles he clutched in his arms in the same manner as one would hold a child. _Check._

Frowning at the failure of his trouble-afoot sensor, he scanned the lab suspiciously as he wandered over to his partner's office, half-expecting a large Problem Monster to leap out from behind a pillar somewhere and make its presence known, as in one of his son's favorite books. Strolling round the platform, he inwardly questioned the wisdom of the book's moral message, whereby the Problem Monster was broken down to squishable size by being told to other people, in a very literal interpretation of "a problem shared is a problem halved." _That's not really true a lot of the time,_ he decided firmly. _What if the problem was something really embarrassing? Like chlamydia. Would not want to share that in any sense. Dumb saying._

While he made a mental note to 'accidentally misplace' the offending book, Booth reached down to push Brennan's door open, only to collide firmly with the wood when the door stayed shut.

 _Ow._

The sensation of pain was followed by a triumphant realisation, _Bones never locks her door. Or puts the blinds down. This is the thing that isn't right!_ He was briefly puzzled. _What's the opposite of 'check'?_ Coming to the conclusion that it didn't matter, he took a step back, ready to kick it open, with the logic that if Brennan had gone to the trouble of locking her door, she obviously didn't want to open it to anyone and so he should save her the trouble of having to unlock it.

Confident in this stellar logic, Booth took a deep breath before slamming his foot just above the lock of the door and sending it flying open. Resisting the instinct to draw his gun, he stepped inside, calling with concern, "Bones? You in here?"

A scowling red face poked up over the back of the couch, and Booth had to do a double-take to confirm that the person, who looked like she'd slapped on warpaint and was about to charge, was in fact his partner.

"Bones?"

Her puffy blue eyes narrowed into a glare as she asked bluntly, "What?"

Nudging the door closed, Booth ventured forward in much the same manner as one would approach a wild animal, inquiring with forced friendliness, "You okay?"

Brennan flopped back down into a sitting position on the couch, saying stubbornly, "I was before you decided to kick my door down." This statement was followed by her blowing her nose impossibly loudly into a crumpled tissue and Booth did his best to hide his shudder at the sound. "What do you want, Booth?"

He offered her a small smile, edging ever nearer, "I just came to see how you are." He frowned as he came closer, taking in the dried trails of tears down her cheeks and the glint in her eyes, and quickly realised that the Apache Chief complexion was not just a result of an allergic reaction. "Bones, what happened?"

She nestled further into the couch, defending sulkily, "I've not been crying."

Booth raised his eyebrows, moving round the front of the couch to get a better look at her before saying sarcastically, "Sure, you haven't. What was it, a spontaneous tear-duct malfunction?"

"Go away."

He did the opposite, and slid smoothly onto the couch, resting his forearms on his thighs and repeating his question with genuine concern, "What happened, Bones? Is it your dad?"

Surprised by the suggestion, Brennan looked up at him, saying with a frown, "My father's fine."

"Your brother?"

She stared in confusion.

"Your nieces?"

She blinked, baffled.

"Your squints?"

She produced a pathetically endearing sniffle, before following it up with a loud and far less endearing nose-blow.

"Your sinuses?"

"Everything's fine, Booth. I just-" She took a deep breath and made an attempt at composure. "I just need a few minutes on my own."

He shuffled a little closer, turning to face her fully as she curled up, sniffling, in the corner of the couch, and passed her a fresh tissue with a reassuring smile. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it." He nudged her leg gently. "C'mon, is there any subject matter in the world that you've not shoved into a conversation with me at some point?"

Before he could point out that the question was rhetorical, his partner plucked an answer out of thin air, "We haven't talked much about sex. You get nervous whenever I mention sexual preferences or fetishes or positions-"

"Whoa, okay!" he interrupted quickly, trying and failing to shut her up before his brain treated her remarks like a very repetitive pop quiz, _Preferences: Bones. Fetishes: anything involving Bones. Positions: on top of/underneath/behind/in front of Bones (delete as appropriate)._ "Look, all I'm saying is that you might feel better if you share this with someone. Like me." He flashed her a winning grin. "A problem shared is a problem halved."

 _Dammit._ His mind returned to his earlier thoughts, namely the situation in which the Problem Monster would roam freely like Godzilla through downtown Tokyo, and he couldn't spot himself from blurting out, "It's not a sex thing, is it? 'Cause there are clinics for that sort of stuff..."

Brennan couldn't have looked more bemused if she'd tried. Staring at him as though he was deficient in some way, she said slowly and clearly, "Sully and I are healthy, Booth."

"Oh." He steepled his fingers, nodding awkwardly. "Good. So, what's up?"

"Booth, just-"

"Leave it alone?" He gave her a half-smile. "What kind of partner would I be if I did that?" Seeing Brennan's eyes drop, he suggested helpfully, "I can try to guess if you want?"

"Booth..." she protested half-heartedly, but he was faintly relieved to see her cheeks returning to their normal color as the blue of her eyes again started to sparkle.

"Hmm..." _What could make a woman cry for apparently no reason? Work with what you know, Seel. Think of the few times you made a woman cry and see if Sully's been as much of a jackass as you._

Pursing his lips, he tried to think of the last time he was in the company of a sobbing woman, before asking triumphantly, "Did you watch a movie? Because 'Bambi' is pretty tragic." She raised an eyebrow. "So I heard."

Smirking at his clumsy cover, Brennan shook her head, blowing her nose again as she replied, "I didn't watch a movie. I don't cry at that kind of stimulation; the characters aren't real and I'm less inclined to empathize with them."

"Bambi? You can't not sympathize with Bambi."

"Because his mother died? That's part of the progression of the species; the elders must die to enable the younger generation to become superior." She looked contemplative between sniffs. "It's actually a very common motif in children's movies."

Booth just looked at her blankly. "That's great, Bones." _So chick flicks are out too... On to How to Make Women Cry Part Two: Break up with them._ "Did it end? Y'know, with you and Sully?"

"No." Amusement colored her voice and she wiped her eyes, removing the pale white trails from her less-flushed cheeks as she waited for Booth to continue in his guesses.

 _HtMWC Part Three: Cheat on them. Or, in the case of Belinda Gleeson, sleep with their best friend straight after breaking up with them. They don't like that._ "Has he been... Uh, I mean, is he seeing anyone els-"

"He's not cheating on me, Booth," she responded, a smile now visible even though her shoulders still shook with an occasional hiccuping breath.

"Oh. That- That's good," he stammered uncomfortably. _Because I probably would've had to kill him if he was. Or at the very least, beat the crap out of him._ An unpleasant thought occurred, and he asked quietly, "Bones, he didn't hit you, did he?" She raised her eyebrows in disbelief and Booth quickly changed to a more logical question, "Did you hit him?"

Brennan smiled as she blew her nose. "There were no fights between me and Sully, physical or otherwise."

Feeling like he was playing Clue (and getting his ass kicked by Colonel Mustard), the agent racked his brains for other incidents involving crying women. _Okay, so if it's not physical harm, relationship issues, bereavement, trauma or Bambi, what else is left?_ A light clicked on in his head as he recalled the event that produced more tears than he'd thought was humanly possible and he asked, mildly horrified, "Are you pregnant?"

"Why would I be pregnant?"

He floundered. "Because you're in a relationship... and you're crying." _May I present Seeley Booth, master of logic._

Brennan apparently had the same thought and gave him a part patronizing, part pitying smile as she confirmed, "I'm not pregnant."

 _You knew that,_ his brain reminded him sternly. _If Rebecca threw clothes, shoes and beermats at you when she even suspected she was pregnant, a woman with Bones' temperament would be lobbing knives and skillets at anyone who came near her._ He had the familiar experience of a mental sigh. _Remember that thing where you think before you speak? Now would be a great time to give it a shot..._

Settling back on the couch, he pursed his lips in concentration as he said, "Okay, give me a minute."

With the evidence of tears almost gone, Brennan folded her arms in expectation, her demeanor visibly calmer as she unconsciously leaned toward him. "You won't guess it," she informed him, a challenge in her tone.

"Good to know what you think of my investigative skills, Bones," he shot back sarcastically. "Just let me think."

"Fine," she replied smugly.

"Thank you." _Come on, Seel. You are not going to be outsmarted by a woman who was hiding in her office, crying, and looking like Coco the Clown, albeit with way more doctorates. Back to the HtMWC Manual._

 _"Chapter Charlotte: accidentally back over her dog, Mopsy, in the driveway." Bones doesn't have a pet, so no roadkill._

 _"Chapter Kim: tell her that her mother looks great." Bones' mom is dead, so no worries there. Plus, Bones is way less neurotic than Kim and so wouldn't automatically think that her boyfriend was trying to chat up her mother._

 _"Chapter Tessa: call out another woman's name in bed." In my defense, Temperance and Tessa are easily confused. Anyway, Sully wouldn't be stupid enough to call out anyone else's name when he's in bed with Bones. Oh god, unwanted mental picture._ He shuddered and moved on.

 _"Chapter Rebecca: forget the dry cleaning, drink the last beer, leave the seat up, refuse to let her be on top, break anything, touch anything, say anything, or breathe anywhere near her when it's that time of the month."_

A small choir of PMSing angels took up the Hallelujah chorus in his head as he looked at his partner, asking with confident amusement, "It's hormones, isn't it?"

Embarrassment flashed across her face, and her shoulders slumped at his conclusion as she made one last attempt at concealment, "It's not hormones." He simply grinned in reply, sliding an arm round her shoulders and pulling his reluctant partner into a comforting semi-hug. She tried to pull away, protesting on principle, "I don't need to be coddled, Booth."

"Did I say I was coddling?" he answered nonchalantly, not releasing her from his arms. "Anyway, there's got to be some scientific reasoning behind it. Like your hormones get excitable at certain times of the month and so start milling around your body, which makes you tense and more likely to cry. But then rest, and chocolate, and godawful romance movies make you relax and make the hormones settle down again." He looked down at her as she gingerly rested her head against his shoulder. "See? Science."

"Science isn't your forte, is it?"

"Nope." He smiled as he felt her nestle comfortably against his side. "But that's why I've got my squint. You do the science stuff and I do the people stuff."

Her pout was almost audible as she corrected, "I'm not _your_ squint."

He feigned horror. "You been cheating on me, Bones?"

She began to laugh, but a blocked nose proved to be an obstacle and Booth quickly passed her a clean tissue from the table, mindful of his son's tendency to use his father's tee as a handkerchief during a comforting hug. Blowing her nose, she settled back in his arms as he stroked her back softly, inquiring, "So what triggered the entirely natural and unpreventable hormone attack?"

"The computer," she mumbled, embarrassed.

"The computer?" he repeated, trying to maintain his sincere and concerned tone. "What did it do?"

There was a tense pause, which was finally broken by Brennan's quiet accusation; "It ate my new book."

Booth's hand froze in its course up and down her back, taken by surprise by this news, but he soon regained his composure and managed to press on, asking sympathetically, "You mean the files went?"

She nodded unhappily. "The files, all the individual documents, my back-up copies, everything. I looked everywhere for them but they weren't there, and I couldn't find my memory sticks, and then the screen went black, and it wouldn't switch on-"

Hearing her agitation rise and not wanting a repeat of the waterworks, he cut in smoothly, "Shh, don't worry about it. You got what, the entire squint population of DC in this Institute somewhere? Do you think one of them just might be a computer genius?"

Missing the slightly teasing nature of his question, she informed him, "There's a computer lab next door which tests government software." Realisation struck. "Oh."

He gave her shoulder a playful squeeze. "So, you think you can find a computer-squint to come help you out?"

"Yes," she answered dejectedly, clearly feeling foolish. "I didn't think of- I mean, I should've been able to fix it myself, and-"

"Bones, it's okay," Booth interrupted again, letting his cheek rest briefly on her head as he spoke. "It's alright to ask for help sometimes, especially when you are scientifically disadvantaged by hormones."

The small smile reappeared on her lips. "Scientifically disadvantaged?"

He nodded. "Yup. 'Cause you know I am pretty much an authority on all things scientific."

Expecting a mocking reply from his now-less-weepy partner, Booth jumped slightly when he heard the response come from behind him in a definitively masculine voice, "Who are you and what have you done with Booth?"

Both Booth and Brennan instinctively sprung to their feet as Sully walked into the office, an amused smile on his face at the sight of them straightening their clothes. Looking at his fellow agent, he asked cheerfully, "You planning a career change?"

Booth just rolled his eyes, moving away from Brennan as he replied, "Nope. I think I'll leave the science to the squints." He made a break for the door in an attempt to avoid witnessing another kiss-a-thon between the couple, adding with a wave, "Well, see you around, Sul. Bones, I'll come by and pick up that paperwork later."

His foot was almost over the splinters of wood which now littered the doorway, when Sully's question floated back to him, the other agent having seen the tissues on the table and employed his equally awe-inspiring deductive powers, "Were you crying, Tempe?"

Against his better judgment, Booth turned round, catching the look of panicked embarrassment on his partner's face which told him that she definitely didn't want to share her computer mishaps with Sully. Reading the silent plea in her eyes, he couldn't stop the lie flying from his mouth, "Bones wasn't the one who was crying, Sul."

The agent chuckled. "You? You were crying?"

"Yep. Rough day," he offered with a shrug.

Sully still looked skeptical and Booth groaned inwardly when he pushed further. "What happened?"

 _Not to question your interrogation technique, Sul,_ he thought bitterly to himself, _But you've got to quit giving the third degree to the guy who's trying to help out_ your _girlfriend._ Knowing that the lie would make it round the entire Hoover building by the end of the day, he tried desperate to employ some sort of damage control. _What is it acceptable for men to cry about? Not hormones, not squished pets, not pregnancy..._

Realising his prolonged silence was becoming suspicious, he tried to keep from cringing as he answered with the next thing that popped into his head, "Computer problems."

Both Brennan and Sully looked surprised and Booth fought to maintain his sincere expression as the other agent spoke with a disbelieving smirk, "You cried because of a computer? What did it do, eat a limb?"

Jaw clenched, he gave 'friendly' his best shot. "Just some tech problems, that's all." His gaze shifted to his partner as he said meaningfully, "I'm going to go get them sorted now." Her mouth curved up in a relieved smile and he resumed his departure after adding, "Call me about that paperwork, okay, Bones?"

He was out of the door before Sully could say anything further, and walked purposefully across the lab before venturing a glance back to see Brennan smiling up at her boyfriend as though nothing had happened. Swallowing hard, he headed up to find a computer-squint, almost wincing at the thought of the mocking he'd receive from his colleagues for his lie. However, as he swiped his way out of one lab and into another, he remembered the look of sheer gratitude in Brennan's eyes and smiled to himself, deciding that, no matter how many jibes were thrown his way or what nickname might be bestowed on him as a result, he'd do it again in a heartbeart.

 _It could been worse,_ his mind informed him helpfully. _You could've said you'd been watching Bambi._


End file.
